


The Beyondness of Things

by Morbidmuch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Angst, F/M, Implied hea, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidmuch/pseuds/Morbidmuch
Summary: On the darkest night of the war, Severus Snape gets a visitor he does not expect.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 41
Kudos: 300





	The Beyondness of Things

**Author's Note:**

> The warmest of hugs to Turtle_wexler and Q_drew for all their love, support and comma wrangling (Seriously check out their stories, they are *amazing*)
> 
> Pst, don't forget to check out the SSHG prompt fest over at [Livejournal!](https://sshg-promptfest.livejournal.com/) There are amazing fics and fanart being posted so hurry over to look at all the splendour (I've got two fics going up sometime during the month 👀).

THE BEYONDNESS OF THINGS

Severus is tired. Not just physically – though his body screams for rest he refuses to give in to – but in his soul. He spends his days in an office he hates, doing a job he never wanted, speaking to the portrait of a man he killed. The nights see him roaming the castle and the grounds, which usually gives him a sense of comfort. But not now. The trees looming over him whispering, watching. The castle walls are cold and solid.

Strangely enough, the only place Severus feels like he can breathe is on the top of the Astronomy Tower. He puts heavy wards on the door – he has to watch his back from both students and faculty these days – and leans against the parapet to look out over the night sky.

He hangs his head, putting his cigarette to his mouth and inhaling deeply. He doesn't want to do this anymore. Tonight he watched the Carrows use the Cruciatus on a first year. He can still hear the child's scream, the sound of her head and limbs hitting the stone floor and smell the putrid smell when she lost control of her bladder.

Severus exhales the smoke shakily – watches it coil into the air and follows it with his gaze until it dissolves. He wishes he could follow the smoke over the ledge and disappear. Ah, but where will they end up if he does? If he isn't there to deliver the message to Potter. He sneers at the name. After that stunt at Christmas, Severus has little hope in the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. At least Granger – and of course Weasley, but there isn't much hope there, either – is with him, she actually has a brain and uses it most frequently.

Rubbing his chest, he slumps against the parapet. He can't see the ground below him, but it feels very inviting. Will his body suffer greatly from such a fall? Or will it look like he's sleeping? He didn't see Albus after he disappeared over the edge of the tower, so he doesn't know. Water drips at his hands, and he looks up at the sky for signs of rain. The stars, so cold and far away, seem to mock him. He raises a hand to his face and realises he's crying.

He hasn't cried since that night at Grimmauld Place shortly after Albus' death. His soul torn, finding Lily's letter and crying as remorse and shame and guilt burnt through him like fire. Knowing he had no one; no one who was on his side, no one who knew him. He had screamed out his anguish, wanting to die. How can he possibly go on?

Flicking his cigarette over the edge, Severus stands. Sniffling, he scrubs a hand over his face. Is he really doing this? If he does, no one will know what he did, what he sacrificed in the name of the Light. Strangely, he finds he doesn't care. His only regret is not seeing the Dark Lord's face as he realises Severus duped him all long. He grips the parapet tighter.

Then his wards go off.

He spins around with his wand out in the blink of an eye, and he trails his gaze over the darkness in front of him. “Show yourself.”

A rustle of clothes and the sheen of something metal makes him point his wand slightly to the left.

Then the tip of a wand lights up, showing a familiar face.

“Good evening, Professor,” Hermione Granger says, silencing his wards with a flick of her wand. “Fancy meeting you here.”

His eyes practically bulge out of his head. “What the devil do you think you're doing, you stupid girl?”

“Seeing you,” she says matter-of-factly, as if he'd just asked if the sun was yellow. “Are we alone?”

His wand is still pointed right at her face, but she doesn't even have the courtesy to look intimidated. “What does that have to do with anything? Why are you here?” If something has happened to Potter, he swears to Merlin he will resurrect Albus just so he can kill him again.

“Could you please answer my question, Professor, and I'll answer yours.”

Severus sneers. “Yes, we're alone. Now answer my question. What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see you,” she repeats and glances at his wand. “Would you mind lowering your wand?”

His heart is pounding, a million questions flickering through his mind. “Why should I? What makes you think I won't kill you right here, or hand you over to the Dark Lord? I'm sure he'll be most delighted to have Potter's clever friend in his grasp.”

Her eyes soften. “Because you are not a Death Eater.”

It's only due to his exhaustion that he can't hide his flinch. “And what do you know of such things?”

“A great deal more than you know. If you'd lower your wand, I will explain it to you.”

He stands fast, and she sighs.

“As a show of good faith, I will lower mine first.”

Her face becomes half clouded in darkness without the light of her wand, but he can see the nervous flicker of her gaze. It pleases him.

“Now it's your turn.”

Severus chuckles dryly. “I gave no such promise.”

She rolls her eyes. “I'd forgotten how difficult you could be.” Without looking at him she transfigures two pairs of binoculars someone has left behind into two low chairs. She takes a seat in one of them, crosses one denim-clad leg over the other and motions to the other chair. “Sit. Please.”

Admittedly curious, but still wary, Severus wandlessly pulls the chair towards him before sitting. “You've got two minutes until I Obliviate you and send you on your way.”

A frown settles between her brows. She fiddles with something clasped around her neck on a long chain. “Do you recognise this?” From underneath her shirt she pulls out a small, gold device and holds it up in the moonlight.

Severus frowns. Was that... “a time-turner?” It looks different than the other time-turner he has seen; more like a Muggle pocket-watch with three dials. He lowers his wand slightly.

“It is, so I'm here on borrowed time. Quite literally,” she says with a low chuckle.

“When are you from?”

Granger shakes her head, sending her hair flying around her face. “You know I can't tell you that.”

It's much shorter than he's seen on her before, gently curling around her jawline, but other than that he can't see any obvious signs of ageing. Except for her eyes. She has eyes that have seen too much. Done too much.

Narrowing his eyes, he silently casts _Legilimens_. Instead of being met with the inside of Granger's brain, as he is expecting, he finds himself in the middle of a dark lake before being unceremoniously kicked out of her mind.

“I can't let you do that, either.”

“Then why are you here? Come for a round of Kick the Snape, have you?”

“No. I'm here to keep you from lobbing yourself off the Astronomy Tower.”

He scowls. “Why should you care?”

“Because if you die tonight, the war will be lost. Harry will fail, and You-Know-Who will win.”

Something flutters in his chest. Does that mean... “Tell me why I shouldn't dive headfirst off the tower if that's the outcome?”

“I told you,” she says patiently, “because you are not a Death Eater. I know more about you than you know, and certainly more than you would like me to.”

Smirking, Severus lowers his wand fully. “Try me.”

“I know you were childhood friends with Lily Evans. That you called her a Mudblood your fifth year and your friendship never recovered, and that you delivered the Prophecy to You-Know-Who that led to her death. I know you, Severus Snape. Which is why you need to listen to me.”

His wand once again points directly at her face, and anguish courses through his body. His vision narrows. “How do you know about that?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Because I _know_ you. I can't say how I know these things, and I wouldn't even if I could. Do you believe me now?”

His vision clears. Her face is closed, revealing nothing of her state of mind. It's unnerving. Granger, the other one, currently sleeping in a tent somewhere, is practically an open book. He wonders when she learnt how to close off like that.

“Perhaps. What can you tell me about what happens?”

She shakes her head again. “Nothing. It's a big enough risk being here, I will not risk more than necessary.”

“Why should you care?”

When she opens her mouth to reply, he waves her off. “Yes, you told me. To stop me from offing myself, I get it. But why _you?_ What does Hermione Granger from the future get out of coming back to talk to her hated Potions professor? _”_

Because he's skilled in reading people's faces, he doesn't miss the tightening of her mouth or sudden sadness in her eyes. Something she said earlier echoes in his brain. _If you die tonight_ , she said. Not _if you die_ or _if you kill yourself_.

If you die tonight.

He wets his dry lips as something burns through his chest. “I do not survive the war?”

Granger's silence is answer enough. Wand dropping to his side, he stands and turns his back to her. Stepping up to the parapet, he grips the railing tightly. The metal is cold on his skin. So it will come to this. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply. He is to die in the war he has given his life to serve in. It seems fitting in a way; he will die like a soldier.

The transfigured chair squeaks as she rises, and he feels her presence as she stands next to him. The early spring breeze sends a waft of gardenia with a hint of something more earthy. Maybe bergamot, or sandalwood.

“I'm sorry, Severus.”

He has to clear his throat before he can speak. “I don't suppose you could tell me any details of my demise?”

“No.”

“I didn't think as much.” He turns his head to look at her. “But we win?”

Granger smiles slightly. “We do. It won't be easy, and good people will die, but we win. Harry kills him in the end.”

He exhales a breath. Is that relief? “It will be a small price to pay for victory.”

She lets out a small sound, like her breath catches in her throat. “Wouldn't you rather live, if you had the choice?”

Severus shakes his head slightly. “I never expected to live this long, Granger.”

She looks hesitant. “But if you could change it? There must be things you wanted to do with your life besides teaching Potions to students who would never appreciate your talent? Maybe travel, open your own apothecary? Get married, have kids?”

He snorts. “I never let myself think of a future away from here, as my own man. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself if that happened.”

She produces something from her pocket; a small leather pouch. “Take this, but don't ask me to explain.”

Taking the proffered pouch, he turns it over in his hands. “You know, for a time traveller you're awfully cryptic.”

This makes her laugh, a clear sound that echoes in the air and lodges somewhere beneath his ribs. Laughter is rare at Hogwarts these days. Before he can stop himself, he is chuckling along with it. When the laughter fades, they're left in comfortable silence.

Severus doesn't know when he last shared a comfortable silence with anyone. Maybe not ever. The cold March wind whips his hair around his face.

At length, Granger speaks. “It's almost time for me to leave.”

His stomach drops. When she leaves, he'll be alone again. “I see.”

Her hand touches his arm. “Severus, look at me.”

He complies, and there is fear and sadness in her brown eyes. “I need you to promise me that you'll try to survive. There is a better world in the balance, if you dare reach for it.”

“If I do,” his voice sounds unfamiliar in his ears, “will you be there?”

Granger smiles. “I will.”

“How will I know when to find you?”

“You'll know.”

She suddenly gasps, clutching the time-turner tightly. “It's time. Live well, Severus.”

Before he can speak, she disappears in a gust of wind, and he is alone. Severus blinks, looking at the space she has just occupied. He can scarcely believe it happened, were it not for the leather pouch in his hand and the smell of gardenia in the air.

He opens the drawstring on the pouch and empties the contents into his hand. A bottle of Dittany and a vial filled with a murky liquid. There is no label. Feeling fairly confident that Granger wouldn't try to poison him, he uncorks the stopper and takes a whiff.

Severus' stomach drops.

Antivenin. Specifically, the antivenin made after Weasley was attacked in the Department of Mysteries.

Oh, fuck.

He is going to get killed by that bloody snake?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a frustrated sigh. The Dark Lord always keeps the serpent close, which most likely means that his death will be on the Dark Lord's orders. That is an unforeseen consequence. It's both a blessing and a curse that Granger had refused to tell him anything specific.

He snorts. Constant vigilance.

–

Severus thinks of Granger's visit almost daily over the coming months. His updates from Phineas are even more tense than usual now that he is concerned about her safety as well. Over Easter, he paces the length of his office for hours after the news of the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. The next time he meets Bellatrix, he has to stop himself from hexing her into oblivion. Each visit with the Dark Lord feels like a death sentence, and he can barely stop himself from twitching at the sight of that blasted snake.

On the night of the battle when Lucius delivers the Dark Lord's message, Severus finally understands. This is the night he is supposed to die. He tries to keep his breathing calm as the Dark Lord goes on and on about the Elder Wand. Nagini is slithering around in her bubble, eyes trained on Severus.

The bottle of Dittany feels heavy in his pocket. He's been carrying it around for months. The antivenin, he's been taking regularly. Hopefully, it will be enough. As he listens to more of the Dark Lord's inane babbling, he comes to the startling realisation that he doesn't particularly want to die. He wants to live; to see what this new world Granger has promised is all about.

Pain like he's never experienced spreads from his neck as he snake attacks. He screams and falls back against the floor. His veins are fire and ice, body crushed underneath the snake's slithering body. Then she's gone, but there is no relief. His fingers meet the mangled flesh of his throat, become warm and slippery with blood. He is only half-aware of the Dark Lord leaving. His hand is shaking as he tries to get to the Dittany in his pocket.

Then there are faces, green eyes looking worriedly at him. He pushes at the memories like they discussed – him and Albus – urging them at Potter. He is growing cold, and it scares him. Over Potter's shoulder, he sees bushy hair and concerned brown eyes. For a second he lets himself think it's _his_ Granger who has come back for him.

–

The next thing he knows he is waking up in the hospital wing, a teary-eyed Poppy by his side. She apologises so fervently he has to tell her to stop. And then immediately retches, fire burning through his throat.

"Take it easy," Poppy says, laying a light hand on his shoulder. "Your voice needs to rest."

It takes several weeks and a too cheerful Healer specialising in those kinds of injuries before Severus gets his voice back, and even then it's nothing like he'd sounded before. He tells himself it's a small price to pay for being alive. He spends the next months at St Mungo's – Christmas is an especially sad affair – and when he is finally released he has turned 39 and is his own man for the first time in almost twenty years.

He tells himself not to look for Granger. During those long months in the hospital he deduces that future-Granger is most likely an Unspeakable – how else could she have got such an advanced time-turner? – and anyone under 25 being offered a job there was unheard of. Which meant he has at least six years to wait before she will become his Granger.

He has started thinking of her as such; _his_ Granger. It's perhaps selfish of him, and definitely damaging. He realises he's putting her on a pedestal, and the next day he owls Minerva for a recommendation for a Mind Healer.

Severus returns to Spinner's End and goes to see Healer Quinton every Thursday. For a while he spends his days however he pleases; he stays in bed until eleven and starts new research projects, experiments with cooking and tries to make the house liveable. He reads about Granger – and reminds himself it's not his Granger – in the Daily Prophet; how she graduated with an O in six NEWTs, is dating Ronald Weasley and is set to join the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Once his body heals – as well as it can with the life he's lived – he travels. He goes to the US – to New York and Tennessee, to Colorado and Oregon. He hates California – too sunny – but loves Vancouver when he goes up to Canada. He spends a few weeks at the Magical Institute of São Paulo, guest lecturing at the Potions department. Next, he sees Greece and Germany, picks two stemmed hepaticas in Sweden and studies vampires in Romania.

By the time he returns to Spinner's End, it's several months into the new millennium. He meets Minerva for tea and puts on a bored air when she talks about the antics of the Golden Trio. He can't care less about Potter and Weasley, and he curses himself for listening a bit too intently when Minerva gushed over Granger. She's still at the Ministry – though Minerva isn't sure which department – and split up with Weasley some time ago. Both of these things intrigue him for different reasons that he won't allow himself to think about too much.

Severus moves to a village in Western Nottinghamshire and starts a small potions business out of his garden shed. His Muggle neighbours think him a retired school teacher; a bit quiet but polite and an avid gardener. Once a week he goes into the local pub and has a pint and a pork pie before walking home. He corresponds with Minerva and Poppy, who keeps him updated in the things the Prophet doesn't print.

The years pass so quickly Severus hardly notices them.

His business outgrows his meagre shed and forces him to open a shop in Diagon Alley, near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Hogsmeade would probably have been a better choice, but he can't bear to be that close to the Shrieking Shack. One afternoon in early Autumn he is closing up when something makes him look out the window. His heart practically leaps from his chest when he spots a familiar bushy-haired woman walking down the street. He is halfway out the door before he realises that her hair is too long, reaching her mid-back. He freezes in the doorway. It isn't his Granger.

That night he pours himself a fire whiskey with shaking hands. It's been six years since the end of the war. How much longer would he have to wait? If he closes his eyes, he can still see her face as clearly as if it had been yesterday. The golden hue of her brown eyes, the way her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled. He feels desolate in a way he hasn't done in years. This new life he's made for himself feels ashen. How could he be so stupid? Clinging to a woman he barely knows; having hope that she will be pleased to see him, to welcome him with open arms.

The week before Christmas he bumps into her in the street, bundled up in a wool coat and blue scarf. Her hair curls gently around her jaw, and he finds he can't breathe.

Then she smiles politely and says, “Happy Christmas, sir,” before walking past him.

He has a double fire whiskey that night.

Severus spends Easter with Pomona and Minerva in Coventry. They are both retired, and he snorts when he hears Longbottom has taken over Herbology. Sipping tea in their conservatory, he feels quite content to listen to them talk without feeling like he needs to contribute.

“I forgot to tell you!” Minerva says excitedly. “I received an owl with a lovely letter last week from Hermione Granger!”

Severus almost chokes on his tea.

“Oh, yes,” she continues. “She's left her job at the Ministry. She wouldn't tell me why, but she did look a bit run down the last time I spoke with her.” She frowns. “Severus, are you all right?”

Clearing his throat, he nods. “I'm fine, thank you.”

He doesn't hear a word said from that point on.

–

Severus spends weeks trying to think of a good reason to ask Minerva for Granger's address. In the end, he can't think of one so instead he sends an owl to Arthur Weasley. He may not have spoken to the man in almost a decade, but he knows he can count on the older man to be discreet.

A couple of days later an owl arrives, and once again Severus feels like he can't breathe.

He memorises the address – 6 Laurel Lane, Pickering, North Yorkshire – but keeps the letter in his pocket just in case.

Summer arrives again – his seventh since the war ended – and he decides it's time. He will visit Granger.

He chooses a Saturday on purpose, halfway hoping she'll be out, and spends too long in front of the mirror before deeming himself agreeable. He can't do anything about his hair (or his teeth, or his nose, or his entire face, really) and he doesn't think she minds either way. But he dons a new shirt in a very deep navy colour and makes sure there is nothing stuck in his teeth.

A few calming breaths and he Apparates north.

He arrives on a country road, silent but for a few birds chirping nearby. Set back a little ways from the road is a house nestled between large trees. Severus pushes the gate open and walks up the path towards the yellow front door. Fragrant gardenia bushes are planted along the side of the house, throwing back in time to that night on the Astronomy Tower.

Severus is quite sure he doesn't give his fist permission to knock on the door, but it does so anyway. There is no sound from inside, and his stomach drops. Then he hears footsteps and he feels like fleeing.

The door opens, and there is Granger. _His_ Granger, with her warm eyes and hair gently curling around her jawline. Her feet are bare, a yellow skirt swishing around her legs. “Hello Severus,” she said, mouth curling in a smile. “I didn't think it'd take you this long.”

This unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Do not speak of waiting; I've been waiting seven bloody years for you, witch.”

Her curls dance around her head as she laughs. “All right, I'll give you that.” She motions inside. “Would you care for some tea?”

Severus can see a little ways into the house; it's all sunshine and quaint furniture. Going inside will be a leap on the opposite side of the spectrum of that night at the Astronomy Tower. That leap would have ended his life, this one could very well start it.

His lip quirks up, the smile unfamiliar on his face, and he steps inside.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Loathe it? Love it? Let me know.
> 
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr!](https://morbidmuch.tumblr.com/) I'm friendly and sometimes funny.


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